


which you from love have given us

by betweenthebliss



Category: Gentleman Bastard Sequence - Scott Lynch
Genre: Backstory, Found Family, Gen, Holidays, Team as Family, Yuletide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-23
Updated: 2013-12-23
Packaged: 2018-01-05 16:16:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,614
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1096026
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/betweenthebliss/pseuds/betweenthebliss
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lavernalis is a night for giving, but what Jean Tannen receives his first winter with the Gentleman Bastards isn't anything like what he expected.</p>
            </blockquote>





	which you from love have given us

**Author's Note:**

  * For [FlatlandDan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/FlatlandDan/gifts).



The winter of the 77th year of Iono was one of the coldest Camorr had seen in years. Auris and Tathris had been warm as they usually were, but the first week of Saris ushered in a cold snap that didn't break so much as shatter, leaving Camorr covered in icicles. Bitter winds stole down the canals and alleys, sneaking under cloaks and hats to shiver down the spine like a superstition. 

The people of Camorr, unused to such treatment, had responded with mulish defiance, piling on more and more clothing and going about their business as if their extremities weren't half falling off with cold. All that extra padding was hell on pickpocketing, which meant the Gentleman Bastards had been largely confined to the cellar and the endless litany of Chains's lessons.

It had been two months since Jean Tannen came to live in the Elderglass burrow beneath the temple of Perelandro, and while he still woke up most mornings startled not to be in his own bed in his parents' house, it jarred him a little less every day. Part of him rebelled against the idea of coming to see the Bastards' home as his own, though the rational part of his mind knew it was inevitable, and that furthermore it would be wise for him to hasten the process. He was part of this gang now, and whatever his feelings on the matter, he would be expected to shoulder his share of the burden. He might as well learn to like it.

On the nineteenth day of Festal he woke, as usual, to the sounds of Calo and Galdo bickering and Chains's good natured grumbling. He and Locke got dressed in silence-- mutually agreed, since Jean was not a morning person, but didn't need to be awake to hit people who made too much noise around him-- and went out to breakfast, Jean smothering a yawn in his elbow.

With a strong cup of tea and a full plate in front of him, Jean started to feel more alive. Chains came in a moment later carrying a small fir tree over one shoulder, its roots wrapped in a burlap sack, and without fanfare took it to the corner where a big earthenware pot had already been set up, and went about arranging the tree to stand up in the pot. Calo glanced over with a look of vague interest; Galdo and Locke barely looked up from forking heaping piles of eggs into their mouths.

"What's this?" Jean asked, since he seemed to be the only one finding anything out of the ordinary about it.

"I'm so glad you asked," said Chains with feeling, finally satisfied with his arrangement and stepping back, dusting the dirt off his big hands. "This," he said, the word heavy with dramatic weight, "is your task for today."

"Mine?" Jean felt his brow furrow, his stomach tightening with anxiety. There had been so many tests already-- he'd wondered a few times if he'd ever be done proving himself. His fellow _pezon_ seemed so at ease here, comfortable with each other and with the constant barrage of trials Chains staged for them. They were thieves, through and through. Jean wasn't sure he'd ever truly be one of them.

Chains chuckled. "All of yours." The knot in Jean's belly eased, but only a little. "It's your first winter with us, so this'll be a bit of a learning experience for you, Jean, but since it involves thinking about other people instead of yourself, I'm sure you'll have no trouble picking it right up."

Galdo muttered something into his plate, which Chains blithely pretended not to hear. "Two nights hence is Lavernalis Night," he said. "The longest night of the year, and as such, a night of celebration for all the Right People. On Lavernalis, we make an offering to the Crooked Warden, but we also make a different sort of offering to each other."

Jean felt his eyebrows furrow together. "What kind of offering?" 

Chains glanced over at the Sanzas and Locke, an eyebrow raised as if to give them the floor.

Calo shrugged one shoulder. "Well, we're not just a bunch of half-witted monkeys who happen to share the same house as you," he said.

"Some of us aren't, anyway," Galdo agreed, reaching over his twin's plate to grab the teapot.

"Well we're not _only_ a bunch of half-witted monkeys who happen to share the same house as you," Calo amended, jostling Galdo's elbow so the tea went half on the table instead of into his cup.

Locke, his mouth full of eggs, hurried to swallow and gestured vaguely at Jean with his fork. "None of us have any family anymore-- we've had to make our own." It was a surprisingly sentimental statement coming from the boy who never took a breath to speak but a wisecrack came out. "If we can't give thanks for what we have, maybe we don't deserve it."

"Friends to help us spend the loot," Jean said, understanding.

"Exactly." Satisfied that Jean had taken in his wisdom, Locke returned to shoveling in his breakfast.

"So, we steal things to give each other." Jean's gaze slid to the tree in the corner, then back up to Chains's weathered face. "Do you steal things for us too?"

Chains went to the counter and began fixing his coffee; Jean could hear his smile, though he couldn't see it.. "Wouldn't be a very good disciple of the Crooked Warden if I didn't, now, would I?"

In spite of his uncertainty, Jean couldn't help grinning back. 

Two nights later he stood on a deserted bridge in the temple district, a purse in his coat pocket. The wind had died down that afternoon, so instead of blisteringly bitter the air was simply frigid and still. The Bastards' breath fogged the air as they gathered, Locke and Jean to one side of Father Chains, Calo and Galdo to the other. Jean's fingers were going numb inside his pockets, and he could hear someone's teeth chattering.

"Crooked Warden, we gather on this longest night to honor you, protector of us all. Father of our fortunes, we make these offerings to you at Lavernalis, the thieves' night, the last night of the year. Keep the night long and dark, keep the watchmen's eyes turned always elsewhere, keep us forever in your favor. We are thieves among thieves, and we bring you these offerings as your tribute."

The silence was thick, and the weight of ritual sat heavy on Jean's shoulders. He had never wanted to be a priest, had never felt any particular affinity to one god over another. But now for the first time he felt a stirring of belief-- perhaps not in the gods themselves, but in the camaraderie that came with calling the Thirteenth your patron. For the first time, he felt a thread of affinity tying him to the boy on his left, the priest on his right, the twins on Chains's other side-- and to Tesso and Nazca and even the mysterious Sabetha, and all the other Right People who would spend tonight murmuring their words, making their offerings. 

One by one they dropped their purses into the canal below, after which Chains intoned, "Crooked Warden, we pray you accept these offerings at the turning of the year, and keep us in your grace on this and every night. And now we're going home, because it's fucking freezing and I'd rather have a gang with all their fingers and noses still attached."

On the way back to the temple of Perelandro, the Sanzas started moaning about how excited they were to eat, which led inevitably to them scuffling over which of them would be the first to the kitchen, Locke proclaiming loudly that they should keep fighting, as it would allow him to slip in ahead of them unmolested. Listening to their laughing banter, Jean realized it had become comfortingly familiar to him, and abruptly it struck him that the thing he had been fearing for the past two months had already come to pass: he had started to feel like one of them.

It surprised him so much that he didn't realize he'd stopped walking until he felt Chains's hand heavy on his shoulder, and he looked up, startled. 

"Everything alright?" Chains asked gently.

Jean nodded. "I just-- I was just realizing something, that's all." Chains waited, the sort of silence Jean had learned to recognize as the priest waiting to see what he would say next. "Thieves prosper," he said slowly. "And we'll prosper better if we prosper together." 

A smile spread across Chains's broad face, somehow seeming both satisfied and excited, and he squeezed Jean's shoulder companionably. "Indeed you will," he said. He seemed to hesitate a moment, weighing his next words before he said them. "I'm glad you're starting to feel at home here, Jean. I very much hoped you would."

"Come on, Jean, or there won't be any supper left!" Locke yelled before Jean could answer, and Chains sighed, looking fondly put upon. He squeezed Jean's shoulder companionably before letting him go, gesturing up the street ahead of them.

"I'd like to think they couldn't actually polish it all off themselves," he said with a long-suffering air, "but let's not put it to the test, hmm? Come on."

Side by side they walked up the hill to the temple of Perelandro, where a tree full of gifts and a hot dinner waited for them, and as Locke threw open the door and warm pink-hued light spilled out onto the icy cobblestone street, Jean Tannen finally felt like he might be coming home.

**Author's Note:**

> I was absolutely thrilled to get a GB request, and I loved your prompt! I had a lot of fun coming up with what I thought the Crooked Warden's holiday celebrations might look like. Also, I really love Father Chains, so the chance to write a bit about him was also something that made me really happy. Happy Yuletide!
> 
> Title text taken from the initiation ritual in _Republic of Thieves_.


End file.
